Angel
by TheSongSmith
Summary: A certain angel got in over his head, showing up unannounced in the boys' living room. Will they be able to fix him, or is he destined for human life? What will they all learn in the process? T for some mild language use.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! I had the inspiration for this a while ago while re-watching some old episodes and thought I'd share to see what you think. I'm not entirely sure where in the timeline this takes place, really it's just a few bits and pieces from here and there, so don't get mad if the continuity isn't perfect. Just thought we could all use some more Castiel funtimes! Enjoy!**

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**SamPOV**

Sitting beside Dean in the bunker, we search for new cases. Well, I'm searching for new cases. Dean has been zoned out for the better part of an hour. "Hey, here's something," I remark. "Stillwater, Minnesota. Three girls claim they saw patrons at a bakery fly around the room before impaling themselves on the baking equipment. Sounds suspicious to me. What do you think?" The only response is a noncommittal grunt. "Oh, look at this one," I tease him. "Aliens land on earth; break their friends out of Area 51."

"Yeah…sounds great, Sammy," he mumbles absently.

I roll my eyes. "Hey look, it's Castiel!"

Dean jumps, looking around bewildered for a minute as I laugh. "Goddammit. That's not funny Sam!"

"I don't know, it was pretty funny from over here," I chuckle. "Come on man, this is getting pathetic. I know you miss your boyfriend or whatever, but you're pining after him like a lost puppy. I thought that was his job."

Dean lets a growl slip through his teeth. "Will you shut up with the 'boyfriend' thing? You know it's not like that. I'm just…worried about him. He's our friend, and he hasn't been answering our calls for days. That isn't usually a sign of anything good, Sam."

I shrug. It's not the first time our favorite angel has pulled a disappearing act. "He probably just lost his phone again, Dean," I assure him. "I'm sure Castiel is just fine, wherever he is. But if you're so worried, why don't you just pray to him? He always comes when you call."

"Don't you think I…?" Dean starts before the venom leave his voice. "I tried," he mutters, defeated. "Two days ago. Nothing."

I hesitate. That's highly unusual for Castiel. Whatever goes on between them, Cas always answers Dean's prayers if he can. I realize that Dean could be onto something. "Well…maybe he just…didn't hear you. I don't know. I'm sure he's okay. He's always okay."

Dean shakes his head. "I don't know, Sammy. Something doesn't feel right this time. The hair on the back of my neck has been standing up for days. I just…I think something happened to him."

All of his usual bravado leaves Dean's voice with this last sentence, and I sigh. "Well…if it means that much to you, we'll go look for him. Get packing." Dean nods gratefully, beginning to throw his belongings into a bag. Suddenly, there's a soft knock on the door. I open it slowly, shocked at what I see. A pale, bloodied Cas stands on the other side, leaning against the doorframe to keep himself upright. "Hello, Sam," he murmurs. Dean turns at the familiar voice, gasping when he sees his friend. The angel lurches into the room, steadying himself against the furniture. "You…called?" he says.

Dean hesitates for a moment before slowly approaching him. "Jesus Christ Cas, what happened to you?"

Slowly, the familiar blue eyes meet mine, and there's something in them I've never seen there before. I realize that our stoic friend is terrified. "Nothing," Castiel answers quickly, looking away. "I'm fine."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you look really fine."

The angel searches his face curiously for a moment. "Was that…sarcasm?"

"No," Dean scoffs, "I think you look healthy enough to enter the Iron Man competition."

"Then perhaps maybe you need to have your eyes examined." As usual, there was no humor in his voice.

"No, I…I didn't…that…" Dean sighs. "Yes, it was sarcasm. You look awful. Are you going to tell us what happened or not?"

Castiel looks down, suddenly interested in the carpet. "I only came to answer your call," he murmurs softly. "If you are no longer in need of me, I will go."

"Goddammit Cas, if you don't tell us what the hell is going on right now…" Dean starts angrily. I cut him off before he can scare the poor guy away.

"I think what Dean is trying to say," I say gently, keeping my voice low and calm, "is that we want to help, but we can't do that if you won't talk to us."

Cas hesitates, his resolve slowly breaking down. "I just…got into a bit of an altercation. That's why it took me so long to answer your prayer. I was too weak to 'poof' as you call it, and without the ability to fly, it took longer than I anticipated. I apologize."

"What do you…?" Dean starts, then stops when I nudge him. He takes a breath, his tone softening. "What do you mean 'without the ability to fly'? Why can't you fly, Cas?"

Dean looks over at me, and I know that the angel's evasiveness is starting to worry him as much as it worries me. Castiel looks up at him for a moment, debating, before sighing softly. "It was a group of demons," he murmurs. "I had been looking for them, but…they found me instead. There was an…incident, and as a result, my wings seem to be…broken."

He grows paler and more defeated as we absorb this. What does 'broken' mean when the subject is an angel's wings? "But they should be healing, shouldn't they?" I ask.

Castiel nods, taking a step and stumbling again. Dean catches him before he hits the ground. He sets the angel down on the couch gently. "Normally, I would heal myself," he explains. "But the wings are a manifestation of my Grace. They, and it, are too damaged to repair on my own. I…" he hesitates, and his next words sound like a child's. "I think I need help."

I nod, moving to clap his shoulder comfortingly, but he flinches away from me. "Okay," I murmur, using the same calm tone I'd use with a frightened animal or child. "We'll help you. Dean, why don't you find the emergency kit and I'll help him to his room?"

Dean nods, looking for the kit while Castiel limps down the hall, gripping my arm tightly. "I apologize for this inconvenience," he murmurs.

I smile. "You don't have to apologize. We don't mind. We're family." This seems to comfort him slightly, and I set him down gently on the bed, assuring him that I'll be back before returning to Dean. "Alright," I whisper, keeping my voice low, "What the hell are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Sam!" Dean hisses back. "I don't know how to fix people, much less angels."

I sigh. "Well we can't let him know that. He needs us. Actually, he needs you. I have a feeling he's not going to like this, and you're the only one who might be able to keep him calm."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" he asks. "I'm just as scared as he is!" he slams his hands down against the table in frustration. "Where the fuck is the emergency kit?!"

I grab his shoulders, forcing him to stop for a moment. "Dean," I murmur, "Cas needs you. You have to calm down or you'll freak him out."

He nods reluctantly. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. So what do we do?"

I consider it. "I guess we'll just have to talk to him and see what he thinks the best options are. At the very least, with his Grace damaged, we'll have to clean his wounds and probably set the bones in his wings."

Dean pauses, thinking. "Do his wings…have bones?"

I shrug. "I don't know, I've never seen them. But there must be something there if they're broken. Let's go see what we can find out."

We walk down the hall, knocking softly on the door before slowly entering. Being left to his own devices, it's clear that the pain of his injuries is starting to get to the battered angel, the discomfort as clear as day on his face. He looks up at us as we enter. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything is okay. How are you holding up?" Dean asks, carefully sitting beside him.

Castiel hesitates. "Um…not so well, I think," he answers. "I believe this is the longest I've ever experienced what you call pain. Does it always get worse the longer it goes on?"

"Sometimes," I answer softly. "But we're going to fix it. Cas, have you ever heard of this happening to anyone else?"

He thinks for a moment. "Yes. Not often, but it has happened before."

Dean sighs in relief. "Okay. How did those people fix their Grace?"

Cas winces. "I believe they, um…had to do things the human way. Their Grace healed once their injuries did. I don't suppose that's a good thing for me, is it?"

Dean hesitates. "Um…Well on the bright side, you'll get to hang out with us for a while."

I nod, forming a plan of action. "The sooner we get you fixed up, the sooner the pain will stop. We can either start with your wings, or with…everything else. It's your choice."

"Everything else. Please," the angel requests.

I share a look with Dean, surprised at this. I assumed the thing causing him the worst pain would be first on the list, though Cas has always been reluctant to even discuss his wings, much less show them. Still, it's the least we can do to let him choose. "Alright then," I say calmly. "We're going to have to take your shirt off to get to your injuries. Is…that alright?"

He nods, but makes no move to remove it himself. Dean looks over at me questioningly, and I nod to him. He reaches over and carefully pulls the bloody trench coat away, removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. Cas seems not to notice until he gently slides the garment from the angel's shoulders, at which point he cringes. "Well isn't that strange," Dean muses to himself. "Bloodstains on the back of your shirt, but no blood on your back."

Castiel shrugs, hissing in pain at the movement. "There is blood. You just can't see it."

Dean shakes his head, deciding it's better to just accept what his friend says than ask more questions now. Besides, we have more important things to ask about. "Alright Cas, try to relax and stay still," I instruct calmly as I carefully inspect the bloody slashes in his chest. "Were these made with an Angel Blade?" Castiel nods silently. "Okay. This might sting a little, but I'll do my best to be gentle." I carefully soak a piece of gauze in a cleaning solution before reaching towards the angel. Just a moment before my hand comes in contact with the wound, Cas jerks away from me, a low whimper escaping him.

I look at Dean, surprised at how fearful our usually stoic friend is becoming. "Cas, it's okay," Dean murmurs. "You know we won't hurt you."

Slowly, blue eyes look up, searching between us. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just…strange."

"We know," I assure him. "Just try to stay still. It'll be over before you know it." Slowly, I move forward again as Dean moves in closer, preventing him from backing away. The angel hisses, pressing back against Dean, to gain comfort or to attempt escape or maybe both. I can't tell. He takes Cas' hand anyway, giving what comfort he can, clearly unnerved at how quickly his angel is turning into a frightened child. "Almost done, I promise," I murmur. Finally, the dried blood is washed from his skin, giving me a better look at the wounds. "Okay, all clean. I'm just going to bandage them. It won't hurt," I assure him. Cas nods, relaxing somewhat against Dean as I carefully cover the wounds.

"So," Dean says to relieve the uncomfortable silence, "How did a bunch of demons even get a hold of your wings? It's not like you just walk around with them on display."

Cas nods sadly. "It seems they've been doing their homework. There are spells for all kinds of things. You know that."

Dean frowns. "There's a spell to make an angel show his wings?"

"An angel's wings are his most vulnerable and sensitive part," he explains. "In the old days, when angels were tortured, it was their wings that took the worst of it. When an angel falls, their wings are torn out. They're a direct line to Grace. It appears the demons have been reading up on us, or that someone is feeding them information."

I wince throughout his story, and a sudden, horrible thought occurs to me. "When you say 'most vulnerable and sensitive part'…"

Cas sighs. "Yes, it's going to be as bad as you think it will be. Compared to the resilience of an angel, their wings are relatively fragile. And the connection to Grace makes them particularly sensitive to all kinds of stimuli. Even the smallest injury is beyond painful. I don't know how much damage has been done, but I can tell you it is agony." The angel's voice, usually even and measured, breaks with his last sentence, and I realize how desperately he's clinging to this calm visage.

"Alright," I say, steadying myself. "Well I guess the faster we fix the damage the better, then. Will you, um…show us?"

The angel hesitates, but seems to realize that he has no other choice. He closes his eyes, and suddenly enormous black wings sprout from his back. Both Dean and I freeze, awed by the reality of something we've only imagined. Even bloodied, torn, and twisted at unnatural angles, the wings are magnificent. But the closer I look, the more damage I see. It's clear that the bones, or whatever infrastructure the wings have, have been snapped in several places, making them hang limply, twisted into painful-looking positions. Blood trickles slowly from several gashes, the feathers matted with dried clots. Worse, it seems bringing his wings into this plane of reality have made their pain more real as well, and his white-knuckled fingers grip the blankets tightly. "Sam," Dean murmurs, "Are you sure you can fix this?"

I'm not, but with the hopeful way Castiel is looking at me I know I can't say that. Instead, I nod. "It can't be much different than setting a broken arm, right? It might not be pleasant, but I can fix it." This seems to calm the angel slightly, and I pray to anyone listening that I'll be able to do it. "Alright, I'm just going to take a look. I won't touch, I promise." He nods, sinking further into Dean's chest as I carefully map out the injuries. While one wing is twisted beyond natural limits with several breaks clear, the other's injuries consist mainly of slices made with the knife, and just a small break near the end of the wing. "We're going to have to immobilize the breaks somehow so that when you move your wings it doesn't upset the bones. The good news is the joints look okay, so you should have some mobility while they heal, at least in this one. For the one with all the breaks, I think our best bet is to have you fold it back out of the way, splint the breaks in that position and immobilize the whole wing. We can use a bandage to hold it against your body while it heals. For the other, we can just splint the smaller break at the end and clean up the cuts; maybe put some stitches in if we have to. You should have fairly free movement in that one. What do you think?"

Castiel looks up at me, and the pain is apparent in his eyes. "If it works," he murmurs, "I think it's the greatest plan you've ever had."

I nod. "Okay. Let me go get what I need. Dean will stay with you."

He half-smiles in that odd way of his. "Thank you, Sam. For everything."

"Any time. Try to relax." 

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**DeanPOV**

I wait for Sam to leave before turning to the miserable-looking angel huddled beside me. He's thinking, and a little crease forms between his eyebrows. "Hey, what's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing," he replies. "I think I might be having a heart attack."

I frown, lightly pressing my fingers against his neck. "Does your chest or arm hurt?"

He shakes his head. "No, it's just very fast. And I'm…damp."

I chuckle. "You're sweating, Cas. And you're not having a heart attack. You're just nervous. I have something that might help." I pull a bottle out from the drawer, setting it down on the nightstand.

"Whiskey?" he asks.

"It'll help with the pain a little," I explain. "Have a sip. Or twenty."

He stares at it for another minute. "I don't drink."

I nod. "I know. But there's not too many better times to start."

He rolls his eyes at this. "I am an angel of the Lord, Dean. I'm sure I can handle it."

Just then, Sam returns, his arms full of various bandages. I take a swig from the bottle myself. "If you say so. I'll just leave it here in case you change your mind."

"Alright, let's get started," Sam interrupts. "I'm sorry in advance for this. Try to hang in there. You might want to hold onto Dean."

Castiel nods, bracing himself against me, his grip on my hand tightening as he folds the worse of the two against his back. Sam counts to three before quickly shifting the bones back into place, holding them still while a screaming Cas thrashes. I grab his shoulders, trying to stop his movement, but for someone who's been tortured within an inch of their life, he's stronger than you'd expect. "Cas, stop!" I yell over his cries. "Cas, it's alright, but you have to stay still before you do any more damage. You're okay. Just take it easy." Slowly, he quiets, panting heavily. After a minute he looks up at me. "You alright?" I ask.

Instead of answering, he reaches over to the nightstand, picking up the bottle of whiskey and chugging as much as he can while Sam carefully binds the bones. After a solid thirty seconds I take the bottle from him. "Alright big guy, the last thing you need is to start throwing up."

He sighs, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "Well, that was…unpleasant," he murmurs weakly.

"Sorry about that," Sam sighs. "The good news is, that was the worst part. I only have two smaller breaks left to fix, and hopefully they won't be as painful."

Castiel shakes his head. "Don't apologize, Sam. I know you're trying you're best. You're already doing more than necessary to help me."

"Still, we don't want to hurt you. Do you want to take a break before we do the rest?"

The angel considers it, then reaches over and takes another swig from the bottle. "I think I'd rather get it over with, if it's all the same to you."

Sam nods, going back to stabilizing the bones. Cas whimpers with each small shift, and his grip on me becomes almost painful. "Hurry up," I mutter to Sam.

"Do you want it done fast or do you want it done well, Dean?" he asks irritated.

"Both would be great," I reply. "He's in pain."

He sighs. "I know that. Hang in there, Cas. I'm almost done." The angel hides his face in my shoulder, trembling hard, little moans escaping him with each ragged breath. "Okay, I'm done," Sam says finally.

Castiel gives no sign of hearing this, continuing to shake. I look to Sam, who shrugs helplessly, before pulling him in closer, careful to avoid his injuries. "Easy, Cas. Hey, it's alright," I murmur softly. "The bad part is over, okay?" Slowly, he nods, but refuses to separate himself from my shoulder. "Sammy, go get me a bowl of cold water and a few washcloths," I order, holding onto the trembling angel. When he returns, setting the bowl down on the table, I soak one of the washcloths in the water, then fold it in half and press it against the back of Cas' neck. A soft, surprised sound escapes him, and after a moment he begins to relax against me, breathing easier. In a few minutes, he blinks up at me. "Better?"

He nods. "What…did you do?" he asks.

I shrug. "It's something my mom used to do when I got worked up. I never knew why, but it always helped me calm down. I thought it might help you too."

The corners of his mouth twitch up in a weak smile. "Thank you. It did help."

"How are you feeling?" Sam asks.

Castiel considers it. "It's still painful, but not excruciatingly so. It's bearable. Thank you."

Sam nods. "I'm glad. I'm just going to finish cleaning up those gashes and patch you up. Don't worry; it shouldn't be nearly as bad as before. Just try to relax." Cas nods, occasionally hissing in pain as Sam cleans his wounds, but for the most part his fear seems to have passed.

"Why'd you go off hunting demons by yourself?" I ask.

He shrugs vaguely. "I heard about some strange things going on, and I know you two are pretty busy, so I thought I'd just…take care of it myself." I raise an eyebrow at him, and he sighs. "Okay. I just wanted to prove that I could do something right for once. I thought I could handle it. Obviously, I was wrong."

I nod. "Yeah, you were. But Cas, you don't have to prove anything. We don't hunt together because we think you can't handle yourself. We hunt together because we like having you as a part of the team."

He sighs softly. "I suppose that was a foolish thing to do, then."

Sam chuckles, beginning to wrap a bandage around his torso to keep his bad wing still. "Yeah, I'd say it wasn't one of your best ideas. But you did the right thing coming to us. It'll take a little while, but you're going to be okay."

Cas nods. "Thank you. Both of you," he murmurs, his eyelids drooping tiredly. "I...I'm really glad that you consider me a part of your family."

I have to laugh as his head dips, only to jerk back up. "Are you falling asleep?"

He nods slowly. "I think the damage to my Grace has made me slightly more human than usual." He pauses. "I don't…really know how to be a proper human." He thinks this over while his head slowly gravitates towards my shoulder, his free wing folding around him like a blanket.

Sam chuckles softly. "Well, you'll have around six weeks to figure it out. Don't worry, we'll teach you. The first lesson on being human is that humans need to sleep when they get tired. You've been through a lot. You should rest." No sooner has the word left his mouth than soft snores start coming up from the angel, slightly muffled by my shirt. "Well that was fast." He turns to leave.

"Sam! What am I supposed to do?" I ask.

He looks at me questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"Do I just…stay here?"

He rolls his eyes. "Yes, Dean. You stay there and let him sleep on you and don't disturb him. Clearly he needs some guidance and comfort right now, and against all logical thought he's chosen you. You're his best friend, and he's helped you out loads of times. I guess it's time to return the favor. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see what else I can find out about this whole wing business."

I nod. "But…you think he'll be okay, right?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, I think he should be okay. I think he'll just need some help for a while. He's not used to being powerless, and he's never needed to rely on other people. It won't be easy, but he'll be okay. We'll just have to be here for him."

"Yeah. Okay," I reply, "I think we can do that. Thanks, Sammy." He nods, disappearing down the hall.

A soft sound comes up from the angel in my lap, and he presses closer, his good wing twitching lightly in his sleep. I stare at it for a moment, wondering what an angel wing might feel like. Are they just giant bird wings, or is there some magical element that makes them different? I watch him for a minute to be sure that he's asleep before slowly reaching out, running my fingers lightly over the feathers. Cas sighs softly, a little shudder running through him. Curious, I continue gently petting the odd plumage, wondering what it would be like to have wings.

"What are you doing?" a low, gravelly voice asks suddenly, making me jump.

"Jesus…You scared me. I thought you were asleep."

He looks up at me, blue eyes narrowed. "I was. But they're a part of my body, Dean. I can feel them like you feel your arms. Why were you touching them?"

I hesitate, feeling the same way I felt when I was twelve, and dad caught me playing with his gun; the feeling that I've done something wrong without knowing what. "Well I…I was just…wondering…I mean, it's not like I get to see them often…I was curious…and you didn't seem to mind…"

Cas frowns for a moment. "Do that again."

I raise an eyebrow at him, but he just stares back until I cave. Slowly, I reach out, my fingertips just barely brushing the edge of the feathers. The wing twitches again, and a strange noise escapes from his chest. I pull my hand back quickly. "What was that?" I ask.

He frowns again. "I'm…not entirely sure."

"Did…I hurt you?" I ask nervously.

He shakes his head. "No. Quite the opposite, actually. It's just…unusual. They've never…done that before."

"Done what?"

He stays quiet for a minute, thinking, before shaking his head. "It isn't important right now."

I nod. "Okay, but…what does it feel like? Why is it unusual?"

He considers it for a moment. "It's oddly…soothing. They seem to…respond to you differently. I've never experienced that before."

"Why do you think that is?" I ask. I've always known our friendship was different, but is it possible that there's something else going on?

He looks up at me again. "They remember you."

I stare at him for a moment. "Okay, you're going to have to explain that to me. What do you mean they 'remember' me?" Instead of explaining, he spreads his good wing farther, and I see a small imperfection. Upon closer inspection, they look like fingerprints burned into the feathers. "What…"

Cas' eyes travel to my shoulder, where the faint outline of his handprint rests. He presses his hand to it, matching up each finger perfectly. "You got this when I grabbed you. But the thing is, you grabbed me too."

I frown, trying to get my fingers to stop shaking as I carefully match each one to the marks on Cas' wing. "I did this?" I ask. He nods. "But…I don't understand. You said I got that burn because of your Grace. I don't have Grace. So how did I leave a mark on you?"

He shrugs, his wing curling around him again. "I've always told you how powerful the human soul can be. When I pulled you from hell, you were scared and in pain and desperate. Those are powerful emotions. So when I grabbed you, and you realized that I was trying to rescue you, you grabbed onto me for dear life. That kind of pure emotion left an impression on me, both literally and figuratively speaking. And when you touched my wing before, it was like my Grace was reaching out for you. Like it remembered what we went through together, and now that it's damaged, it…wanted to connect with you again." He ducks his head. "Just an idea, really. I can't say for sure. But it wasn't…unpleasant at all."

I nod slowly, thinking about this. "I guess that makes sense. When I was in trouble, my soul grabbed onto you. Now that you've been hurt, your Grace wants to hang onto me."

"That's fairly accurate, yes."

Finally, after feeling so useless, this is something I can do to help him. "Well there's nothing wrong with that. You've always had my back, and Sam's. Now I've got yours. Don't worry about it."

He smiles. "You're a good friend, Dean."

"You're not too shabby yourself. Go back to sleep, Cas. You've had a rough few days. When you wake up I'll make Sam bring us burgers and pie."

A snort escapes him. "You're actually going to share pie with me? You must have been more worried than I thought."

"Shut up."

Cas chuckles softly. "Jerk."

"Bitch." 

**Well there you have it, just some random plot bunnies that have been floating around. If you happened to enjoy it, drop me a line! I could continue or I could leave it here, so if you want to see more let me know!**

Love,  
TheSongSmith


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! Sorry this chapter took so long, I've been on a bit of an adventure around Europe for the past few weeks, but here's a new one for you!**

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Cas sleeps soundly for a few hours before Sam slips in to check on him. "How's he been?" he asks softly.

I shrug. "I think he's okay. He hasn't stirred in a while. Poor guy's just exhausted."

He nods. "Well I can certainly see why." He pauses for a moment. "Hey Dean? Did any of that whole demon story strike you as strange?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, he said he was attacked by demons, but that his wounds were made with an Angel Blade."

"So? They could have used his," I point out.

He nods. "Well yeah, that's what I assumed. But it fell out of his jacket earlier, and it's totally clean. No blood. No nothing. I know he's been known to do some strange things, Dean, but in a state like that I don't think he'd stop to clean his blade before he got here."

I consider it for a moment. "So you think he…what? Lied to us?"

He shrugs. "It wouldn't be the first time. But it is possible that he didn't connect the pieces. Think about it, Dean. If they didn't use his knife, they'd have to have another Angel Blade. How would they get ahold of one?"

"They could have taken if from another angel, if they've done this before."

"Or…" he prompts.

I think. "Or…another angel gave it to them." He nods grimly. "So that means…"

"A rogue angel who's out to hunt other angels," he finishes.

I nod. "Well there's only one way to find out. He's the only one who was there. But…maybe we should wait a few days. I think he's got enough to deal with right now."

Sam nods. "Agreed. At least here he's safe." He sighs. "Well, I'm going to go grab food. If he's sleeping, he'll probably need to eat too. You gonna be okay by yourself for a bit? I can stay until he wakes up if you want."

"No, that's okay. I'll call you if I find out anything new." He nods and slips out as I turn my attention back to the angel who's managed to curl himself up in a ball in my lap, despite his impressive wingspan. He stirs, frowning. Curiously, I lightly place my hand over his wing, watching him settle again. His peace lasts for a little longer before he stirs again, mumbling something. He wakes with a gasp, jolting up from my lap. "Cas?" I murmur. He whirls around, his eyes wide. "Hey, it's okay. It's just me. You're okay."

Slowly, he seems to process this, and finally he nods, staring down at his lap. "Right. Sorry."

I shrug. "Nothing to be sorry for. It happens to the best of us. How are you feeling?"

The angel hesitates. "I…I'm not entirely sure at the moment."

"Okay…Did you, um…want to talk about it? Your dream?"

He raises an eyebrow at me. "You never want to talk about things. Why would you offer that?"

"Well I…I just thought…" he continues to stare at me, and I sigh. "Is it a crime to be worried about you? We've been through a lot together, and I don't think I've ever seen you that freaked out. This isn't your first ride on the torture coaster, but it is the first time it's messed you up this bad. Come on man, is there something you're not telling me?"

He sighs softly. "I…I'm not sure."

"You're not sure? What does that mean?" I ask.

"It means I don't know, Dean," he replies sharply. "I just see these little flashes. None of them fit together or make any sense, but I get this feeling like…like something bad is going on but I can't figure out what or when. I get so scared but I don't know why."

An edge of desperation leaks into his voice, and I sigh, hugging him gently. "Alright, I understand. Just try to calm down. It's okay to be scared, but the last thing you need to do is panic. You went through something horrible, but you're going to be okay. And whatever it is that's not fitting together right now, we'll figure it out. But for now, you're safe from whatever's going on. Just try to relax and focus on getting better for right now. We can deal with the rest later."

He nods, pressing closer into my side as he tries to calm himself. My hand brushes along the edge of his good wing, and almost immediately the tension leaves him. "That's really not fair, you know," he murmurs.

"What's not fair?"

A small smile escapes him. "That you can do that. Downright dangerous, if you ask me. Should I start carrying tranquilizers around to even the playing field?"

I can't help but laugh. "I guess you'll just have to trust that I won't calm you to death."

He chuckles. "I guess so. I suppose I can manage that."

There's a soft knock on the door before Sam pokes his head in again. "Hey, look who's awake. How are you feeling, Cas? Any pain?"

The angel shrugs. "Some, but nowhere near as bad as before, thanks to you."

Sam smiles. "Good to hear. I thought you might be hungry." No sooner has he set a bag down than Cas is digging into it. "Well," he laughs, "I'm going to take that as a yes." He hands a second bag to me before sitting at the edge of the bed to open his own dinner. "Hey Cas, you mind if I ask you about something?"

Cas shrugs. "Go ahead."

"I was sort of wondering how you escaped. I mean, you were in pretty bad shape, and the things that did this to you don't exactly seem like the merciful type."

The angel frowns, a little crease forming between his eyebrows. "I…I don't really know. I just remember being tortured, and then hearing Dean's call and then…you opened the door. Everything else is kind of…fuzzy." He pauses. "Is that a bad thing? Do you think they did something to me?"

Sam considers it. "It's possible, but I think it's much more likely that it's stress-related."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Well sometimes people who experience traumatic things can't remember what happened. It's a sort of defense against memories that might be painful. The brain blocks them out to protect itself. You were held hostage, tortured, and had your wings broken. That sounds pretty traumatic. Don't worry. I'm sure they'll clear up soon enough."

Cas nods, but seems unconvinced. "Is there a way I might clean up without ruining your work here? I feel…dirty."

"Sure," Sam replies. "We should try to keep your bandages dry, but I think we can work around them. I'm sure Dean would gladly help you. Right Dean?"

"Uh…yeah. Sure thing," I assure him, though I'm not entirely sure of what I'm agreeing to. "We can get you cleaned up after dinner if you want."

He nods gratefully, returning to his burger. When he's finished, he sighs. "Being human is complicated."

Sam chuckles. "Yeah, it's not always fun. But it's not all bad."

"When does the good part start?" Cas asks.

"We'll keep you posted on that," I answer. "In the meantime, let's clean you up." He nods, trying to get up from the bed, but tripping over the edge of the blankets. I manage to catch him before he hits the floor. "Maybe we should take it one step at a time," I suggest.

"That's probably a better idea." He grips my arm tightly, and we slowly make our way into the bathroom. "I'm sorry," he murmurs when I set him down on the edge of the tub. "I don't mean to be so dependent."

I shrug. "It's fine. We've all been there before."

He sighs. "I don't like it."

I nod, sitting on the counter beside him. "Yeah, I know how you feel. None of us like it. But sometimes we have to depend on each other. It's only for a while. Don't worry. I'm sure you'll be back to your usual, pain-in-the-ass self in no time."

He manages a small smile. "Thank you. You've been…very helpful. I have to admit, I didn't come just because you called."

"Why else did you come, then?"

He shrugs. "I knew I was in trouble, and you're the only person who I was sure I could trust. I can't say exactly how, but I knew you would help."

I nod, standing to grab towels from under the sink. "Well, I'm glad you came. Now, how do you want to…" I turn back to find him standing there, stark naked. "Um…nevermind."

Cas' head tilts to the side, confused. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"Uh…no. No. I just…hang on for a minute. Stay right there." I walk back to the bedroom to find Sam chuckling. "What's so funny?" I growl at him.

"You are. Does it really make you that uncomfortable?"

I roll my eyes at him before starting to dig through the drawers. "Excuse me if a full-grown naked man standing in the bathroom makes me a little uncomfortable."

"Come on, Dean, it's not like that. He's your friend, and he doesn't really understand it. He's like a child."

"Dude, gross. That's just worse."

He laughs. "What are you even looking for?" Finally, I find it and hold it up so he can see. "A bathing suit?"

"It'll make me feel better, okay?"

He shrugs. "Whatever works. Have fun."

I scowl at him before going back to the bathroom and holding the article out to Cas. "Put that on." He looks at it curiously, but obeys as I run the water in the tub. When I turn back around, he's waiting. I motion him towards the tub, but he just stares at it. "You're not going to get clean from there." Slowly, he steps toward the tub, running his hand through the water. "It's…water, Cas. You're supposed to get in. That's how this whole cleaning thing goes."

He nods. "I know." He stands there for another moment before climbing into the tub, sighing softly as he settles down in the water. "That's nice," he murmurs, his eyes closing.

"So I hear."

One eye opens at me. "Do you not do this?" he asks.

"Not really. I'm not good at being alone with my thoughts."

"I see." He pauses. "So why am I doing it?"

I shrug. "Because you need to relax. Can you wash yourself, or do you want help?" He takes the washcloth from me and attempts to lift his arm above his head, but winces and drops it down again. Defeated, he hands the towel back. "Hey, it's okay. I don't mind. It's probably better to take it easy today anyway." He nods reluctantly as I begin to clean him up, carefully avoiding the bandages on his chest and wings. He shivers as I lightly run the cloth between his wings. "How's it feel to be clean again?" I ask, rinsing him off.

He cracks a small smile. "Heavenly."

I chuckle. "And they say you have no sense of humor. Come on, let's dry you off. We'll wash your hair in the sink so we don't mess up the bandages. I don't think either of us wants to go through that again."

"Agreed," he nods, carefully standing up. I hand him the dry towel, letting him dry himself off while I dig up some clean clothes for him to wear. I turn away to let him dress himself in as much privacy as possible. Though he still holds onto my shoulder for support, the fact that he can do this himself seems to lift his spirits a little. He settles in front of the sink, and I get to work washing the dried blood and sweat from his hair. He makes a soft sort of purring sound.

"What?" I ask.

He shrugs. "You're doing it again."

"What, exactly, am I doing?"

He looks away. "It's…complicated. And probably dangerous. More danger than I should be willing to put myself in. And yet, I have no desire to stop it."

I pause in my rinsing. "I'm not sure I'm following here. What danger are we talking about?"

He shakes his head. "It's nothing. I'll tell you about it another time."

I sigh, finishing the job. "Well whatever it is, you know I won't let anything happen to you."

Cas nods. "I know. That's why I'm not worried."

"Oh. Okay then. You're done. Now back to bed before you hurt yourself."

He chuckles. "Hey Dean?" he murmurs, slowly hoisting himself out of the chair. "Thank you. For everything."

I nod, helping him back into the bedroom. It's only a moment before he's out cold. "Hey Sammy?" I call quietly.

He peeks into the room. "Something wrong?"

"How much lore is there about angel wings?"

He frowns for a moment. "Um…I don't know. I found a couple of things, and I made some calls, so we should know more soon. Why do you ask?"

Cas stirs, mumbling something in his sleep. I lightly place a hand over his wing, and Sam's eyes widen as the angel quiets. "That would be why."

"You can…how did you do that?" he asks.

"I don't know, Sammy. He says they 'remember' me."

Slowly, he sits down. "Remember you from hell?"

I nod. "Yeah. He said I grabbed him, and the power of the human spirit forced some sort of connection. And now that he's hurt, they're reaching out to me. He says he's never experienced anything like it before."

"Huh." Sam thinks for a moment. "It's possible. I mean, people talk about the soul as something separate from the rest of a person all the time. What if Grace is something separate from an angel? We've seen how powerful Grace is. It's not too far a stretch to believe it has some sort of consciousness of its own. Tell me again, exactly what he told you."

I sit down next to the angel. "He said that I left a mark on him when he pulled me out of hell, just like he left one on me, and that now that his Grace is damaged, it wanted to connect with me again."

He nods thoughtfully. "And he just goes calm whenever you touch his wings?"

"As far as I can tell. Any thoughts?"

He hesitates. "Well…it's almost like…like it's scared."

I roll my eyes at him. "Oh come on, now we're assigning emotions to it?"

"Just think about it, Dean. The Grace is still there, but it's damaged, and it looks like its connection with Cas has been turned off for the time being. Think about the times you've been separated from your body. How confused and freaked out you were. And how comforting it was to see or hear or touch something familiar. How much safer it made you feel. I know it's implausible, but it kind of makes sense."

"So you think it's freaked out that the connection with Cas is missing?" I sigh.

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. He said his wings are a direct line to his Grace, right? Maybe when you touch them, it recognizes you as something familiar and safe. Maybe he relaxes because it does. I don't know, man. That's my best guess, but I'll keep looking."

I nod. "Yeah. Let me know if you find anything." He slips out, and I turn my attention back to the angel on the bed. "You're just full of mysteries today, aren't you?" 

* * *

**Well there you go, that's chapter two. If you enjoyed it please write a quick review! They make me happy!**

**Love,**

**TheSongSmith**


	3. Chapter 3

**This one is a little bit of plot and a little bit of fluff. Enjoy!**

* * *

**DPOV**

I wake up in the middle of the night to strange banging noises coming from the kitchen. Automatically, I grab the gun from the nightstand and slowly creep towards the sound. A quick check reveals that Sam is still in his bed. I round the corner into the kitchen to find Castiel doing something that resembles fighting with the cookware. "Goddammit Cas," I mutter, lowering the weapon.

He turns, surprised. "Oh. Hello Dean."

"Don't 'hello Dean' me. What are you doing?"

He looks to the stove, then back at me, puzzled. "I'm…making breakfast."

"It's three in the morning, Cas," I point out. "Nobody eats breakfast at three in the morning. Why are you even awake?"

He shrugs, looking away. "I wasn't tired anymore, so I thought I'd do something productive."

"You weren't tired anymore?" I repeat. He nods slowly. "You do realize that you've barely been able to stand up on your own, but suddenly you felt so good that you decided to make breakfast?" He gives a half-shrug, but stays silent. I sigh, collecting myself and putting the gun down. "Alright Cas, why don't you take a seat?" Slowly, he obeys, sinking into the couch and watching as I sit down across from him. "Alright. Now, you want to tell me what's really going on here?"

He hesitates. "No, not particularly. But I'm guessing that's not really relevant right now."

"You got that right. I don't believe that you're just getting in touch with your inner Martha Stewart here, so what's this really about?"

The angel sighs, sinking further into the couch. "Well…it's nothing really. It's just…I had one of those dreams again. And I didn't want to go back to sleep and have another one, so I thought trying something new would keep my mind off of it."

I sigh. "Why didn't you yell for me like I told you to?" I ask.

"You were sleeping. I've already inconvenienced you enough, and I didn't want to disturb you again," he explains.

"Cas I already told you, you're not an inconvenience. I don't mind being woken up if you need something. What about these dreams is freaking you out? You said they don't make any sense."

He nods. "They don't. But I can still tell that something bad happened. The fact that I can't remember it is…distressing."

He yawns. "Alright, well we can discuss it in the morning. But you can't just not sleep. Especially not now with all the healing you have to do. Let's get you back to bed." Cas frowns, but doesn't resist as I help him off the couch and back into his room. "Do you want me to stay with you?" I offer.

He shakes his head. "No, that's alright. I'll be fine. I promise."

"Alright. If you change your mind or you have another dream or you need something, I want you to wake me up. Got it?"

He nods. "Got it. Goodnight, Dean."

I wait up until I hear soft snores coming from his room, but in the morning I wake up to find him curled at the end of my bed anyway. "Close enough," I mutter to myself.

There's a soft knock on the door before Sam enters. "Morning. So I…" he starts, then trails off, looking at the angel on the bed. "It's like having a new puppy," he chuckles.

"Yeah, something like that. Except a new puppy doesn't try to cook breakfast at three in the morning. Did you want something?"

"Oh. Yeah. I have some news on the research front. So I've been looking for possible connections between angels and humans, and so far I've only found one even a little similar to this. The thing is, it has to do with Guardians."

I frown. "But Cas isn't a Guardian angel."

He nods. "My thoughts exactly. It looks like this is something no one's seen before. Or written about, at least. I mean, Cas is hardly a typical angel. It looks like this is a sort of new territory for everyone."

I sigh. "Awesome. You know how much I love being the universe's guinea pig."

"Yeah, I know." He watches Cas for a moment. "So, three in the morning, huh?"

I nod. "Yeah. He had another nightmare and got freaked out. We've gotta do something before he goes crazy."

"What do you think we should do?" he asks.

"I don't know. We don't really have someone on the angel patrol we can call for help. Maybe we should tell him your evil angel theory. Maybe it'll jog his memory or something."

He shrugs. "It could. But don't you think it'd hurt him if one of his brothers is behind this?"

Cas makes a small noise, his feathers rustling. "Yeah, I think it would. But right now he's just so lost. He wants to know what happened to him. And we can't just let him suffer. We have to figure this out, and it looks like he's the best lead we've got. We'll just have to pick up the pieces. We've done it before."

Sam nods. "Alright. We can try. I'll meet you in the living room."

I watch him leave before taking a seat next to a sleeping Cas. Slowly, I reach out, shaking him lightly. "Cas? Wake up buddy." He comes around slowly, groaning. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."

He ignores me, stretching. "Dean?" he murmurs finally. "Is now a more appropriate time for breakfast?"

I can't help but laugh. "Yes, now is a better time. Sam's already got it started, so why don't you wash up and join us?"

He nods sleepily, sitting up. "Alright." I watch him, amused, as he walks toward the other door in the room.

"Um, Cas?" He turns to look at me. "That's the closet," I point out. "Bathroom's this way."

He pauses, looking at the door for a moment before nodding. "Right."

I leave him in the bathroom and go find Sam. "Ready?" I ask him.

"Nope. But it doesn't look like we have any other choice. I'll follow your lead." Cas returns, taking a seat at the table. "Morning," Sam greets him. "How are you feeling?"

Cas shrugs. "Does it matter?"

"Well we don't want you to be in a lot of pain."

He thinks about this. "Oh. I'm okay, I guess. It still hurts, but it's not bad. Thank you."

Sam glances at me, subtly nodding towards him. "So Cas," I start, "I was talking to Sammy earlier, and we were thinking that it might help you to talk to us about what you remember."

The angel frowns. "How would that help?"

I hesitate, and Sam cuts in. "Well, Dean was telling me that you said your memories of what happen didn't quite make sense, and that you were having dreams about them that were…stressing you out. So we thought maybe if you tried to talk about them, we could help you figure out the parts that don't make sense, and maybe then you wouldn't have those dreams all the time. We'd just like to help."

Cas considers it. "Did you find out anything?" he asks.

"Well, no," Sam says, "But I was doing some thinking, and I might have a theory. You're sure the things that hurt you were demons, right?" he asks. Cas nods. "Okay. And you said they knew some crazy powerful ancient spell that they used against you. Is there anyone you know of that might have had knowledge of a spell like that?"

He thinks. "Some of the higher-level angels, maybe."

Sam nods. "Okay. And you said they used an Angel Blade on you. Was it your blade?"

Cas shakes his head. "No, they had it before they took me."

Sam glances at me, and I shrug. "Cas, we think maybe there's a rogue angel out there working with the demons. We don't know why, but the pieces fit." All at once, Cas goes completely still, not even breathing as he stares straight ahead with wide eyes. "Cas?" I call softly. "Cas, can you hear me? Castiel!"

I nudge him, but he doesn't even blink, and he's starting to turn blue. As a last-ditch effort, I reach out and slap him hard. He gasps, his breath coming out in a hoarse whisper. "Karael." He jumps up, his chair clattering to the floor, and begins mumbling to himself in Enochian.

"Alright Cas, calm down. Who is Karael?" I ask. He continues to ignore me, his breathing getting strained. "Crap. Cas, focus. Cas!"

* * *

**CPOV**

Dean is still talking, but I can barely hear him over the buzz in my head as all the broken pieces of memory start to fit together. The Dangerous Man, the one with the smile that gave me that sick feeling when I remembered it. He's Karael. Everything is all wrong, and I'm getting this odd pain in my chest, but I can't focus on anything besides the images flashing through my head. Vaguely, in the back of my mind I register the conversation between Sam and Dean.

"_Way to go, Dean,"_ Sam mutters. _"You broke him."_

"_Yeah, well I'm all out of ideas, so it's your turn,"_ Dean replies.

There's a hint of worry in his voice, a note he usually reserves only for Sam. The sound of it makes me uncomfortable. How is Karael here? Why would he turn on his own kind, join forces with the ones he was supposed to protect against?

Suddenly, I find myself pressed up against something hard, and the small part of my brain analyzing the obstacle finds it so bizarre that for a moment it drowns out my panic. I look up, finding myself face-to…chest with Sam, who has his arms locked around me. "Sam?"

"Cas? Can you hear me?" he asks, worried.

"You're hugging me."

A brief smile flashes across his face. "Um…yeah, I know."

I frown. "Why are you hugging me?" I ask, briefly distracted by the same stabbing pain in my chest.

"You went totally catatonic and then freaked out on us. You weren't responding. I thought maybe I could shock you out of it." His tone is softer than I expect it to be, considering how inconvenient I'd imagine it is to have to talk an angel down. "Cas," he murmurs, "I know you're scared, but you need to calm down. Whatever's going on, you're safe here. We're not going to let anyone hurt you, but we really need to know what's happening, and you really need to breathe before you get sick."

"I'm not cleaning that up. Just FYI," Dean cuts in.

Sam glares at him. "_Dean_," he snaps. He turns back to me, and I realize that he's legitimately concerned. There's another twinge in my chest that has nothing to do with low oxygenation. "Cas, I promise, whatever it is, we'll figure it out. It's going to be okay, but you have to calm down and take a deep breath."

"I…don't think I can," I manage.

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure I remember how."

He looks oddly relieved, though I'm not sure why. It definitely doesn't sound like a good thing to me. "Something we can fix for once," he mutters to himself. "Alright Cas, I promise you haven't forgotten how to breathe properly."

"You sound very sure," I point out.

He chuckles. "Yeah. I am sure. It's in there somewhere. You just have to focus. Pick one thing and focus on it until everything else is quiet." I nod, deciding that Sam is the easiest thing to focus on at the moment, given his proximity. Cautiously, I press closer to him, trying to block out everything else. Surprisingly, instead of pulling away, he pulls me closer, one hand resting low on my back, avoiding my injuries, and the other pressed to the back of my neck. His grip is firm, but not alarmingly so, and I find it oddly comforting, despite being strange. I wonder idly if this is a purely human reaction or not. After a minute or two of focusing on his solid, steadying presence, I once again attempt a deeper breath, and this time it's a little easier, a little less tight. Sam must feel it, because a relieved sigh escapes him. "See? You did it." I nod, staying that way for a minute until I think I can keep it together on my own, before slowly looking up at him. Though slightly less worried than before, his expression is still soft with concern. "Feel better?" he asks.

I nod, stepping back from him. His hold releases immediately, and I find myself oddly disappointed. "Yes, thank you. I apologize for the breach of personal space. I'm not sure what came over me."

"Don't worry about it, Cas," he replies. "I'm just glad you're back with us. Do you think we can talk about whatever you remembered without freaking you out again?"

I nod again, taking a seat. "I think your theory is right. I know who's behind it now. It's Karael."

"Who is Karael?" Dean asks, puzzled.

"Karael was an angel whose job it was to watch demon activity and prevent it from getting…out of hand. He had a certain influence over them."

"He must be employee of the month," Dean mutters.

Sam frowns. "Did you say 'was' an angel?"

I nod. "Karael disappeared centuries ago. He was presumed destroyed by the demons. That's why I didn't recognize him initially. He should be dead."

They both consider this for a moment. "So…what?" Dean asks. "He went into hiding for a few centuries, and then started popping up to torture his own kind?"

I shrug. "It's possible, though I don't know how he'd manage to hide for so long. But…he did say something…It's a little fuzzy."

"See if you can remember," Dean prods.

I nod, but my stomach does a little flip anyway. I don't really want to remember anything else if it goes as well as the last time. I look over at Sam for a moment, wishing he would come closer again. I'm both surprised and embarrassed by the desire, and I look away quickly, but he must have seen something, because he takes a seat next to me. "He…he said he was experimenting," I remember, cringing a little at the memory.

"Experimenting? For what?"

I shake my head quickly. "I don't know, but I don't really want to remember anything else right now."

Sam nods, lightly patting my shoulder. "That's probably a good idea. You don't want to push it too much. I learned that the hard way."

I feel a little guilty, remembering exactly how he learned that. "Alright," Dean says, "Well he can't get to you here, so you'll be safe while you heal. In the meantime, we'll try to figure out how we're going to take him down. We'll have to find him first anyway."

"I don't think you're going to find him, Dean," I say. "I think we're going to have to let him find us. Or me."

Dean shakes his head. "Absolutely not. We're not using you as bait. He's hurt you enough."

I sigh. "We may not have another choice. I'm not thrilled about it either, but I can't stay in hiding forever. He'll come after me, one way or another. He isn't after any angel, he's after me. We might as well use it to our advantage."

He frowns. "Well we have time to figure it out. But for now, I think we could all use a day to relax." He moves to sit next to me on the couch, but Sam gets up, going into his room. There's a strange feeling in my chest as he does, and I try to rub it away, only to accidentally press against one of the slashes in my chest and quickly abandon the idea. Dean turns the TV on, but I'm not paying attention. Instead, I try to decipher these complex human emotions I've begun feeling. Angels are simple. They follow a pattern, and they're rational. Humans are the exact opposite. They have all these _feelings _and _emotions, _not to mention _desires_ that I'm finding hard to understand. And that's without taking their strange customs into account, like this odd feeling they get when someone shows fondness for them. More and more since my grace was damaged, I'm finding it so tempting to give in to those desires, especially the desire for closeness, which is completely foreign. Angels are solitary creatures. They don't experience affection the way humans do, and just thinking about it too hard makes me a little dizzy. I realize Dean's talking to me. "Cas!"

"What?" I ask.

He frowns. "Are you sure you're okay? You look…confused."

I mean to tell him that yes, I'm fine, but what comes out is "How do you think Sam feels about me?"

My hand clamps down over my mouth immediately, but it's too late. Dean stares at me for a minute. "…Come again?" he says finally.

I feel my face getting hot, and I know it's red. Humiliation is yet another unfortunate side effect of being human that I've become well acquainted with. "I don't mean…I just…I always thought that he only accepted my presence in your lives because you asked him too. But now everything is so confusing, and I don't know anymore."

Behind me, the couch dips, and I jump a little. I turn to find Sam, who's frowning. "Why would you think that, Cas?" he asks softly.

I hesitate. "Well…I've sort of…screwed up your whole life over and over and over again. You should hate me."

A brief, amused smile flashes across his face, though I don't know what's funny. "Yeah," he says, "But I have this problem where I never do what I should. Besides, you haven't screwed up my life half as much as Dean has." Dean makes a small sound of protest as I stare at Sam, bewildered. He sighs. "Look Cas, I don't hate you. I've never hated you. You've made some mistakes, but we all have. You're family."

"Then…why did you seem so reluctant to accept my presence before?"

He shrugs. "I guess I just figured you and Dean had your own stuff going on. I didn't want to be in the way."

"And…now?"

"Now you're my friend, and I care about you, and you came to us for help. I don't want you to suffer, especially not if I can help. It's simple."

I shake my head. "No it's not. Since I've been here everything has been so complex and confusing, especially all these feelings. Are all humans this complicated, or is it just you two?"

Sam chuckles, his hand coming down lightly on my shoulder, and that same feeling from before spreads through me again. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. You'll figure it out."

"That's what I'm afraid of," I mumble.

* * *

**Yay! Please remember to drop me a line if you enjoyed it. Or if you hated it. or if you're indifferent and just want to say hi. I love those little "Review" emails :D**

**Love,**

**TheSongSmith**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone! I decided to write this chapter instead of my research paper, so I hope you like it!**

* * *

**CPOV**

There are a lot of things I miss about being an angel. I miss being able to fight my own battles. I miss being the strong one. I miss always knowing what people are thinking, and not knowing what they're feeling. I miss people looking at me without pity in their eyes; talking to me without that note of worry, the voice hushed and soothing, making me want to give into it. Sometimes I hate how much I want to stop fighting the weakness; how much I want to let them comfort me, how much I want to accept their soft hands and softer words. But the thing I miss most this morning is not being in pain. Because I've realized lately just how painful it is to be human. It's constant, ambiguous, and always there one way or another. It makes me wonder if that's why babies cry; because it's just all too much for them. I don't know how humans do it. I wonder if they even notice it anymore, or if they've just grown used to it. This morning, that pain has taken the form of the overwhelming mix of emotion and confusion that has taken up residence in my head, as well as the waves of pain that are radiating through my back. I briefly consider hiding this from Sam and Dean, but when I try to sit up the fire in my muscles is enough to convince me otherwise. Instead, I decide to find Dean and see if he still has whiskey stashed somewhere. The only problem with that plan is that it involves moving, something I'm not sure is going to happen right now. I manage to pull myself up; my body protesting each slow, shuffling step to the living room. Dean isn't there, but Sam is, a stack of books on the table next to him. He glances up. "Cas? You okay?"

"Where is Dean?" I ask.

"He went on a supply run. We needed some stuff." He frowns. "Are you sure you're alright? You're kind of pale."

I ignore his last comment. "He went alone?"

"Yeah. He asked me to stay in case you needed anything. He should be back in a couple of hours. Did you need something?"

I shake my head, trying not to wince as the pain flares up again. "No, that's alright. I'll just wait…" I turn to return to my bedroom, but a spasm runs through my back, the muscles objecting to their confinement, and I'm completely leveled by the jolt of pain that spreads through my body, crumpling under the weight of it. It's so blinding that I can't register anything but the flames that I'm sure must be licking over me.

Slowly, the room comes back into focus, and I find myself on the floor, a worried Sam kneeling beside me. "Cas? Cas, can you hear me? Where does it hurt?" he asks.

"Back," I manage to whimper out, trying to catch my breath. I feel his hand settle lightly on my back, looking for the source of the pain, but automatically my body seizes up out of fear and I jerk away from his touch, which sends a fresh wave of fire through me. "Don't!" I plead, both disgusted by how pathetic it sounds and unable to care.

"Okay, okay, I won't," he murmurs, adopting that same soothing tone that I both enjoy and hate. "Just relax and stay still for a moment. I'm not going anywhere." The idea of this is slightly comforting, and I try to take his advice. After a moment, the pain fades to a dull roar. "Cas?" he says cautiously. "Can you tell me what happened?"

I turn my head slowly, trying to limit the amount of pain I put myself through. "My back has been getting stiffer the longer it's bandaged, and it started to hurt a few days ago. It's getting worse. I keep getting spasms and I don't know how to fix them. They're bad."

He nods thoughtfully. "Okay, I think we can fix that. First let's get you off the floor. Do you think you can sit up, or do you want some help?"

"Help…would be appreciated," I admit. "Just…slowly. Please."

"Of course," he assures me. "Tell me if you need to slow down." One large hand wraps around my arm, the other falling to the opposite hip, slowly pulling me up while I try to pull oxygen into my lungs. "There you go, buddy," he murmurs when I'm upright. "Now, we can fix this, but I have to ask you a few questions first. Do you not want me to touch you?"

I hesitate, considering my answer carefully. "No. I mean, that's not it. It's that I do, but I don't…quite know what to do. Angels don't…do that like humans do. They don't…hug or hold hands or experience much in the way of physical touch. But I've noticed, since I've been here, that I seem to…enjoy it. And worse, that I think I want it like I never have before. But these feelings…they're so new. It's.…strange."

Sam nods. "Well I can understand why it would freak you out if you're not used to it. You know I wouldn't hurt you, right?"

I think about it for a moment before nodding. Since I've been here, Sam has had plenty of opportunity to hurt me, and he hasn't, excluding that first night when he set my wings, which, to be fair, had to be done, and which he felt guilty about. "Yes, I know you wouldn't hurt me."

He smiles, relieved. "Do you trust me, Cas?"

I have to think again. While it's true Sam and I have never been as close as Dean and I, since I've been injured he has shown me exceptional kindness, and he seems to genuinely care about my well-being. I realize that I do trust him, or I wouldn't have come here. I nod slowly. "Yes," I murmur. "I trust you."

He seems sincerely happy about this. "Okay. Then let's fix this pain. Do you think you can walk, or do you want me to carry you?"

"I'll walk," I decide, "Just…" I reach my hand out to him and he nods, taking it and helping me off the floor. He supports much of my weight as he leads me into the bathroom. "I don't understand," I say, watching him turn on the water in the tub. "How is this going to help?"

"The heat of the water should help relax the muscles a little bit, and then we'll see if we can work the knots out." I'm not entirely sure what this means, but if it's going to help the pain I'll try it. "Alright," he says, "let's remove the bandage holding your wing down and give you a little more space to breathe."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I ask, remembering the pain of that first night.

He must realize where my thoughts are. "Don't worry, the other bandages will keep everything in place, and it won't hurt. But hopefully relieving some of the pressure on your back for a while will help. Trust me."

I nod, watching as he carefully removes the tight strip of bandage. I do feel a little better. "Can I stretch it?" I ask.

"The wing? Sure, if you want. Just do it slowly, and stop if anything hurts." Slowly, I unfold it from where it's rested for the past several weeks, surprised at how good it feels to be able to move. I expected pain, but everything seems to be working properly, albeit stiffly. "How's it feel?" Sam asks.

"Surprisingly okay," I reply. "Does that mean it's healed?"

"Well, I think we should probably keep the bandages where they are for a little while longer, just to be safe. None of us want to go through this again. But I think it's healing well. You'll be good as new soon enough." He gently helps me into the water, which is just on the right side of too hot. "I'll let you relax for a while," he murmurs. Before I can even think, I find myself reaching out and grabbing onto his wrist. He turns back, surprised. "Do you…want me to stay?" he asks.

I swallow nervously, nodding. "I…yes, I think so. If you don't mind."

He nods, smiling reassuringly. "Sure. Just give me a second, okay? I'll be right back."

I nod, releasing his arm, but the moment he is out of sight I start to doubt that he'll return. _No_, I admonish myself. _Trust him_. Sure enough, Sam returns, setting his stack of books on the counter. "I'm sorry," I say automatically. "It's just…it's not so bad when you're around."

He shakes his head. "You don't have to apologize, Cas. I don't mind. Try to relax for a while, okay?"

He picks up the book at the top of the pile, and I allow myself to enjoy the heat of the water, managing to slowly relax a little bit. "What are you reading?" I ask.

"Trying to find some information on our buddy Karael, but it looks like he was pretty good at avoiding being noticed. How's your back feeling?"

"It still hurts," I admit, "but the spasms aren't as bad now."

He nods. "Good. We'll have you fixed up in no time. Ready to continue?" I don't really know what comes next, but I nod anyway, and Sam carefully helps me up, waiting patiently as I dry off and pull on someone's old sweatpants. I miss my trench coat. He leads me back to the bedroom, coaxing me into lying down on my stomach. "Alright, let's see what we've got." I don't know what he means by that, but then I feel one large hand pressed lightly to my lower back, and I think I start to understand. The idea is unsettling, and he must feel it because the touch disappears. "Trust me, Cas," he reminds me softly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I know you're not used to it, and that's okay. I'll go slow, and if you don't like it I'll stop. But I don't want you to be in pain, and I don't think you want that either."

Slowly, I nod, remembering to breathe. "Okay. I'll try."

The hand reappears, but stays in place for a minute, waiting for me to relax. I take a breath, focusing on the odd warmth that spreads through me. Slowly, it moves further up, not pressing hard, but still assessing the damage. I tense as he nears the source of the worst pain, but his fingers just barely ghost over it. "Relax," he reminds me again. When I look back at him, he's frowning. "If this is how it feels when it's better, I'd hate to know what it felt like earlier."

"It wasn't pleasant," I tell him.

"I can see that. How are you doing with the whole 'touching' thing?"

I consider it. "It's not bad. It's actually kind of nice. Just strange."

He nods. "Good. Alright, try to relax as much as you can, and breathe. I'm going to be gentle, but some of your knots are in knots, so they might be a little uncomfortable at first. But I promise you it won't hurt, okay?"

"Okay," I murmur. His hands move lower again, starting at the base of my spine and searching carefully for the stiff spots. The fingers dig in gently when they find one, the pressure light at first and slowly increasing. There's a dull ache for a moment before a sense of warmth spreads as the muscles release, and the relief is so sweet that I don't even care about letting the weakness show.

I make a small sound, and Sam pauses. "Cas? Did that hurt?"

I shake my head quickly. "No. it felt really good, actually."

He smiles. "Good." He continues, making his way slowly up my spine, finding every uncomfortable spot and quickly releasing the tension. The large hands, though powerful, are exceedingly gentle and careful, and I can feel him watching me closely for any signs of pain. I get so lost in how good it feels that I don't notice how close he is to the worst spots until I feel his fingers moving slowly over the muscles connected to my wings, where the worst of the pain is. I can't help but flinch when I feel it, and he stops. "That's where it hurts the most?" he asks. I nod. "Okay. Try to relax. I'll be gentle and go slowly." I take a breath as the light touch returns, and he presses carefully into the muscle, a little at a time. The ache is worse here, definitely uncomfortable but not truly painful. I remember to keep breathing this time, and when the tension suddenly releases a little moan escapes me before I can stop it. Sam chuckles, continuing to massage it lightly for a moment, making sure the pain is gone. "Better?" he asks.

I nod. "So much better," I breathe. He moves over to the other side, repeating the process, and this time it's much easier to relax. His hands continue upwards, relieving the pain in my shoulder and neck, before moving back down again, going over the work he just did and checking for any spots he missed. "Does it still hurt anywhere?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Not at all, for once. It's nice."

He chuckles. "I bet it is. If it starts getting stiff again, let me know before it gets bad and we'll take care of it."

"That sounds much better than my original plan," I remark.

"Oh yeah? What was your original plan?"

"Finding the alcohol," I admit.

Sam laughs. "Oh, so that's why you were looking for Dean. For future reference, I don't think it would have really helped. You were in pretty bad shape. Why didn't you just tell us what was going on?"

I shrug. "I felt weird about asking for help. I usually do. This isn't weird, is it?"

"I don't think so," he replies. "You were in pain, and now you're not. Do you feel like it's weird?"

I think about it. "No, but my social compass doesn't always point north, so I'm not the best judge."

He chuckles. "I guess that's true. Well I don't think it's weird, if that helps. Then again, I fight monsters for a living, so I don't know if I'm the best judge either. So no pain is always a good sign. How are you feeling otherwise?"

"Not horribly now," I murmur, groaning softly as his fingers press deeper. "Actually not bad at all at the moment."

"Well you certainly look like you're feeling better. I don't think I've ever seen you so relaxed. Was a back rub all you needed to get the stick out of your ass?" he teases.

I laugh, and it doesn't hurt for once. "I guess so. I don't think I've been this relaxed in centuries, especially lately. Being human is stressful. You have all of these feelings and desires and they're all so overwhelming."

His hands travel slowly up each side of my spine. "Have you considered that maybe they're only so overwhelming because you're so determined to fight them?" he asks.

I frown, puzzled. "I'm not sure what you mean."

His touch disappears, and the bed beside me dips under his weight as he sits. "Well, you're so uptight about analyzing what you're feeling all the time and resisting every desire and shying away from anything that makes you feel something. Would it really be so terrible to stop trying to decipher your feelings, and just…feel them instead? To just accept them and let them happen for once? I think it'd be a lot easier."

I think about this. "Interesting theory. I never really considered it. You don't find it…weak to give in to your desires?"

He shrugs. "I mean, you can't give into all of them. You can't kill someone just because you want to, or…I don't know…bite people. But a hug, Cas? Is there really something wrong with letting yourself have a hug when you want one? Or telling someone that you need help? Think about it this way: you're only human for a short amount of time. Why not spend it trying to experience being human, instead of being an angel trapped in a human body? Just let go for once. I promise, it'll be okay."

I sigh. "Well, when you put it like that…but how am I supposed to know which desires are okay and which aren't?"

"You just…know," he says. I look at him doubtfully, and he sighs. "Alright, if you don't know you can ask me, okay? But I really think you're making this harder on yourself than it has to be."

I nod slowly. "I guess I could try."

He smiles. "Okay then. We'll be here to help. Just one condition."

I frown. "What?"

"No more hiding things from us," he says, his tone firm but not angry. "We can't help if we don't know what's going on, okay?"

I nod. "Okay. I promise. And Sam?"

"Hm?"

I hesitate for a moment before hugging him quickly. "'Thank you. For everything."

He chuckles, and I feel the vibration in my chest. "Sure thing, buddy," he murmurs, carefully hugging me back. "And I'm glad you're embracing your feelings and stuff, but maybe warn someone before you do that next time."

"Right," I mutter, starting to release him.

Surprisingly, he doesn't let go. "Cas? I don't mind if you want to stay there."

I nod, relieved. "Okay. Can I help you with your research?"

"Sure, if you want. Actually, that might be helpful. Do you know anything else about Karael?"

I shrug. "Maybe. What are you looking for?"

"Well, I was kind of hoping to find a description of what he can do as far as demons go. You said he has some influence over them, right?"

I nod. "It's wasn't like he could control them exactly, more like they feared him. But I think now he's gotten more powerful. I think he's using the demons to do his dirty work. They seemed to wait on his orders for everything, from what I could tell."

"Huh. So he's stepped up his game. Maybe he got tired of working behind the scenes. Still no word on what he was experimenting for, huh?"

"I could try…" I start.

Sam shakes his head. "No, it's okay. I know it's probably very painful to remember. If anyone understands, it's me. Don't worry about it." He pauses. "Has anything else slipped through?"

I shrug. "Just some little things. Mostly memories of what they did. Nothing important."

"You know, if you ever wanted to talk about it, we're here," he says.

"I know," I assure him. "Honestly, I don't think I have anything cohesive enough to talk about yet. But thank you. I'll let you know if anything worth talking about comes through."

He nods, returning to his book as I lean against him, searching through another one. Now that I'm finally comfortable, the exhaustion hits me harder than usual, and it isn't long before I'm struggling to keep reading. Sam looks over at me. "You can sleep if you want, you know."

I shake my head. "No…I'm fine," I mumble, even as my head finds his shoulder.

He chuckles softly. "Whatever you say."

**SPOV**

When Dean returns, Cas is fast asleep against my shoulder. "Hey," I murmur, careful not to wake him. "How was shopping?"

He rolls his eyes. "Wonderful as always." His eyes fall to Cas, and there's a slight edge of worry in his eyes. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, actually I think he's better than he's been in a long time. We had an…interesting day."

He watches the angel for a moment. "He's…actually relaxed. Did you drug him or something?"

I laugh. "No, actually. He's been hiding the fact that he was in pain from us, until this morning when his body finally rebelled against him and he couldn't hide it anymore."

"Again?" he asks.

I shrug. "Old habits, I guess. Anyway, when I figured out what was going on I helped him out, and we had a good talk. I think he's starting to get it."

"Huh. Who knew you'd be the one to crack him," he says.

I nod. "Tell me about it. At first he didn't even want me to touch him. Actually hurt himself in the process of pulling away from me. But I started talking to him, and I realized it wasn't me. He was just scared. Did you know angels don't experience physical contact beyond violence? Like, ever?"

He frowns. "Isn't that a fun fact of the day? It's kind of sad, actually."

"Yeah. He just didn't know what to make of it. But I asked him to trust me, and he finally did. I mean, reluctantly at first, but I think he gets it now; that I care about him too."

"Look at you making friends," he teases.

I shove him lightly. "Shut up. It's just nice to be a part of the club once in a while."

He laughs. "Hey, I get it. It's not easy to gain the trust of the angel brigade. You're happy, he looks pretty happy, so I'm happy. Did you find out anything else about Karael?"

"Just that when he was on the God squad, he couldn't control demons per se, but he somehow intimidated then into doing what he wanted. Despite that impressive ability, he seems to be considered a second-tier angel. He's barely even mentioned anywhere."

Dean nods thoughtfully. "Maybe he got tired of being a second-class citizen and decided to go where he could be top dog."

"Yeah. We think he might have been spending this time honing his skills, and now he's using demons to do his dirty work."

"Great," he sighs. "Just what we need, a jealous demon king. Any word on what he's experimenting for?"

I shake my head. "Nothing yet. I don't want to push him on it. You saw what happened last time, and that time we weren't even asking him to recall an actual moment of torture. He says bits and pieces are coming back, though. So I guess we'll just wait."

"We still have to find the bastard anyway. So how is he doing, health-wise?"

Cas stirs for a moment, pressing closer, before snoring again. "He's doing pretty well. I'm going to take a look at the knife wounds later; I think they should be just about healed up. He stretched his bad wing a little today. He said it didn't hurt at all, so that's a good sign. I'm going to keep the bones immobile for a little longer, just to be safe, but once we loosened his back up he seemed to be doing a lot better. I'm going to check it every few days to make sure it doesn't tighten up like that again."

"It was that bad?" he asks.

I nod. "He had spasms so bad he was on the floor, Dean. He's lucky he didn't hurt himself even worse."

"Well damn. Alright doctor Sam, whatever you think will help. You seem a little occupied, so I'm going to go start on dinner."

"Okay. And Dean?" He turns to look at me over his shoulder, and I grin. "Don't worry; he still loves you the most."

He scowls. "Shut up. Jerk."

"Bitch," I call after him.

I return to my book until Cas begins to stir again. He blinks up at me, puzzled. "Sam?" he murmurs.

"Hey Cas. How are you feeling?"

"Good," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Really good." He pauses for a minute, thinking. "Did I fall asleep on you?"

I chuckle. "Yeah, but I don't mind. Did you sleep well?"

He considers it. "Yes, actually. No dreams. Usually I have at least one or two."

"Well that's good news then. Any pain?"

He shakes his head. "None at all. It's refreshing. Did Dean ever come home?"

"Yeah, he's making dinner. Or burning it, more likely."

"We should probably check on him," he murmurs, but makes no attempt at getting up.

"You think so?" I ask.

He chuckles. "Probably, but you're comfortable."

I laugh. "Thank you. It's one of my many talents. Come on, let's go make sure he doesn't burn the bunker down." He nods, getting up with barely any assistance. I follow a step behind him, noticing how much better he's walking now that he's not in pain.

In the kitchen, Dean turns, smiling. "Hey, I heard you were feeling better today."

Cas nods. "Much better." Something catches on fire, and Cas turns to look at it. "Is that supposed to happen?" he asks.

"Of course it's supposed to happen," Dean insists. "Why would it happen if it wasn't supposed to?"

A brief smile flashes across Cas' face. "Maybe you should let us handle that?" I suggest.

"Alright, if you think you can do better, be my guest. I'm going to work on…something else."

"Do you need help?" Cas asks him.

"No, that's alright. Besides, I need you to watch out for Sammy," Dean grins. "Make sure he doesn't burn the house down, will you?"

He laughs, and I shove him. "Jerk."

"Bitch!" he calls over his shoulder, disappearing down the hall.

"Alright Cas, let's see what we can salvage here."

"I don't know how to cook," he points out.

"Yeah, but neither does Dean, and he manages it sometimes. Don't worry, I'll show you."

He nods, watching carefully and dutifully performing the simple tasks I assign him. Together, we manage to make something edible out of whatever Dean was attempting. Cas sets the table, glancing up at me as a crash sounds down the hall. "Do you think he's okay?"

I shrug. "It's Dean. Is he ever okay? Why don't you finish up and I'll go get him?" he nods, and I go into Dean's room to find him fighting with a bed frame. "Dinner's ready. How's it going?" I ask.

"Fine. I'm almost done. I'll be there in a minute."

I nod, returning to Cas, who frowns. "Don't worry, he's coming," I assure him.

"What is he doing?" he asks.

I hesitate. "Redecorating," I answer finally.

Dean joins us, and Cas seems more surprised than anyone that what he's made actually tastes good. After dinner, Dean disappears again, and Cas yawns. "Do you think I'll ever not be tired?" he asks.

"I wouldn't worry about it. You had a busy day. Do you want to go lie down?"

He thinks. "Unfortunately, yes."

I help him up, walking him down the hall. He starts going into his room, but I hold onto his arm. "Cas? This way."

He frowns, confused. "But…my room is here."

"Yeah, I know. Just come here for a moment."

He nods, following me into Dean's room, where Dean is sitting on one of three beds in the center of the room. The angel looks around for a moment. "I…don't understand," he murmurs.

"Well," Dean explains, "I was thinking that sleeping at the end of my bed every night can't really be comfortable, and since you refuse to just ask to stay here, we thought it would be easier to just pretend you'd asked and move your bed."

"But…why?" Cas asks.

I shrug. "It makes you feel better, and it's not forever. But we know you've been kinda freaked out lately. So if this helps for now, then why not?"

Cas stares at Dean for a moment before hugging him tightly. Dean looks over his shoulder at me, raising an eyebrow, and I shrug, chuckling before Cas releases him to hug me instead. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"Sure. Why don't you sit down for a minute? I want to look at those knife wounds."

He hesitates, but nods, and I carefully remove the bandages. Though still red, and with the tail-end of a stitch poking out the end, the slashes seem to have healed for the most part. "What do you think?" Dean asks.

"I think they look really good." I look up at Cas, who has his eyes shut. "Cas, it's okay, you can look. You're fine."

Slowly, one eye opens, then the other, and he hesitantly looks down at his chest. "Oh." He runs his fingers lightly over the red mark left over from the wound. "I thought it would be worse. You really did know what you were doing?"

I laugh. "Did you think I didn't?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I thought you were just trying to make me feel better."

"I kind of was at first. But I do know a little bit about fixing things. It comes in handy in our line of work."

"When did you learn all that medical technique?" he asks curiously.

I shrug. "When we were kids. Dean was always too squeamish, and Dad was usually the one hurt, so it was my job. Dislocated shoulders, broken bones, stitches. I did a lot of reading."

"He was a loser," Dean cuts in.

"But," I continue, "I kind of liked it too. It made me feel like part of the team. It was something important that I could do."

He nods thoughtfully. "Well thank you."

"Any time."

He smiles a little. "I know." 

* * *

**Woohoo! I thought poor Cas could use a little TLC. Please remember to review and make me happy!  
**

**Love,**

**TheSongSmith**


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